


The Susan Chronicles: The Once and Future Queen

by AmazingGraceless



Series: The Susan Chronicles [2]
Category: Chronicles of Narnia - C. S. Lewis, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Grief/Mourning, POV First Person, Religious Content, Religious Discussion, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Susan is a witch, The Susan Chronicles
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-20
Updated: 2019-01-27
Packaged: 2021-03-12 03:42:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,578
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29878563
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmazingGraceless/pseuds/AmazingGraceless
Summary: In 1943, Susan Pevensie has lost everything. The Ravenclaw witch has lost her family, and seems to have forgotten Narnia entirely. But she has bigger problems than her faulty memory or the grief she refuses to feel. There's something strange about the Beauxbatons transfer student, and students are being attacked by a mysterious monster rumored to have been left by the Founders.
Relationships: Caspian/Susan Pevensie, Susan Pevensie/Tom Riddle
Series: The Susan Chronicles [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2196771





	1. The Wedding Painting

**Author's Note:**

> Author's note: In 2015, I wrote The Susan Chronicles: The Call to fulfill my need for Susan x Caspian fic taking place at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry during the 1990s. My biggest regret was moving Susan forward in her timeline. I'd like to revisit it, and place it in the time period of the 1940s. After all, if anyone can help/stop Tom Riddle as a teenager, it would be Susan Pevensie.
> 
> So for the hardcore Narnia fans: I'm going with the timeline that puts the Pevensie crash in 1943, for plot reasons. And yes, the character descriptions and events are movie-verse. As for The Call's relationship to The Once and Future Queen? Think of it as an AU of each other. They're companion pieces.
> 
> I also took some inspiration from Ana Mardoll’s writings, particularly the theory that Eustace and the Pevensies’ parents were meant to the be the original four kings and queens sitting on the throne at Cair Paravel. I don’t always agree with Mardoll’s takes on the Chronicles of Narnia but liked his theory nonetheless.
> 
> With that out of the way, I present The Susan Chronicles: The Once and Future Queen.

**I checked my lipstick one last time in the mirror.** It was perfect, crisp shade of red, not a single smear out of place.

"Susan? You'd better get down here, or else we're going to be late to the train station!"

I placed the lipstick in the pocket of my coat— well, it was Mother's nicest, but after the accident, she didn't need it anymore. I adjusted my nylons, then picked up my wand off of the dresser.

"Coming!"

I turned back to my trunk and practiced my first spell all summer.

"Wingardium Leviosa." With a swish and a flick, my trunk floated in the air, following every command of movement issued by my wand.

Satisfied, I directed it down the stairs, and with an equally graceful flick, set it down by the stairs. I placed the wand in the pocket Mother sewed especially for hers. Yet as I scanned the room, to make sure there wasn't anything I had missed, my eyes came across a portrait.

Wait— no— that wasn't the right word for it. Portraits were of people. This was a painting of a ship, and a very odd one at that. It did not look like any ship that I had ever seen in a book or in life.

Yet, it was familiar somehow, like I'd seen it before, and didn't remember where.

I stepped forward, entranced by it. The waves appeared to move, and sway, like portraits at Hogwarts. The closer I stepped, the more real it looked, like a colored-in photograph—

"Susan!"

Aunt Alberta's exasperated cry preceded her as she raced up the steps. Her expression grew angrier upon seeing the painting.

"Get away from that old thing, Susan! Get away!"

I reluctantly retreated from it, joining my aunt out in the hallway. She crossed her arms over her chest, hiding the patches she darned onto her jersey.

"I really ought to have taken that painting down a long time ago." Aunt Alberta pursed her lips. "A wedding present from that rotten professor— not that it bothered anyone until last summer, when Lucy and Peter— never mind that. It won't be there by Christmas. Now, come along. We're running late, and you need to be on the Hogwarts Express."

* * *

It was strange, coming without Peter, Edmund, or Lucy. I kept my eyes straight ahead and my posture as straight as the princesses. I could keep it together, until I was alone in a train compartment.

But as I took in the steaming scarlet engine, I felt a sudden surge of panic. They'd all died in a train crash, after all.

Why wouldn't I be next?

At least then I could join my family again. . .

I shook my head. I had to get a grip—

"Susan, are you alright?" There was pity in Uncle Harold's eyes, as if he understood why I'd stopped in the middle of Platform 9 and 3/4.

"Yes, I'm fine." My tone was adequately icy— no one would ask.

"Make sure to write us at least once every week," Aunt Alberta said as she looked me over one last time— presumably to make sure I looked presentable. Never mind that she need not worry on that account.

"Of course, Aunt Alberta."

"And you should study at least one hour every night for your O.W.L.s."

"Yes, Aunt Alberta."

"And do give our regards to Tom— he's such a lovely boy, I remember from your letters and the pictures."

"Yes, Aunt Alberta. I'll do that."

She nodded curtly, satisfied with my answers. "Be a Pevensie witch. Show everyone what Pevensie witches are made of."

"I will."

I didn't know what to say to them. To give goodbyes at a train station again? That reminded us all too much of the Accident.

"I'll see you all at Christmas."

"Are you sure you don't need help with your trunk?" Uncle Harold asked.

"No, I've got it." I faked a smile for good measure. "Besides— magic."

"Of course."

I then lifted my trunk myself as Aunt Alberta and Uncle Harold turned and left. I didn't blame them. I would have bet anything that they were just as upset as I was to be in a train station.

Yet as I was dragging it along, I conceded that I was wrong. I wasn't in fact, strong enough to lift it.

 _Come on, Susan,_ I told myself.

I was about to resort to magic entirely when he appeared. Handsome, with hair longer than most boys, and as dark as his eyes, like coffee, he seemed familiar somehow.

"Can I help you with that?"

"I'm fine," I lied, and I had my hand on my wand when he instead started pulling my trunk.

"At least let me help you then." I picked up the other end so he wasn't dragging it along the concrete, and the two of us managed to put it in the luggage car. It reminded me of when Peter and I would help the kids with their luggage.

When the job was done, the young wizard boy turned to me, and I could've sworn he'd recognized me. But I don't know where from. We'd never met before.

"I'm Caspian del Rey," he said. "And you are?"

"Susan Pevensie," I mumbled. "I don't recall seeing you around before?"

"My family moved to England," he said, and now I recognized his heavy Spanish accent. "To escape the war there."

I nodded. "So Beauxbatons, then?"

"Of course."

"Good luck at Hogwarts." I turned around, when he touched my shoulder, only to pull away when I whirled around. "What?"

He looked as if he were going to say something, and then thought better of it. "Nothing."

"Good."

With that, I took my carpetbag and wand, and stormed off to find my own compartment. I wasn't in the mood to flirt and flounce— not this year. It took everything to keep up with the lipstick and nylons, so that no one suspected anything was wrong. Boys were just one step too far, no matter how beautiful they might have been.

* * *

The first compartment I saw had Marjorie Jorkins and Annabel Vance talking in it. Lucy's best friends. Yet I saw them talking and laughing, as if they didn't care that she'd died. I walked a little more quickly. I wanted to run from Caspian del Rey, from Majorie Jorkins, from Annabel Vance.

I didn't even want to see my best friend, Phyllis Fawley.

I just slipped into the last compartment, the last place anyone would look, and I let myself cry.

"Oh, I'm sorry."

I looked up to see Tom Riddle standing there.

"I'll leave— I'll bet you want to be alone right now." Yet as he turned, I felt a rush of panic.

"No, please stay."

I don't know why.

He turned, and I thought I saw a ghost of a smile. But I must not have, because then I saw him give me a look of mixed pity and understanding. Of course Tom would understand. He always did.

"Come here."

I stood, and embraced me as I continued to cry.

"There, there, Susan."

He held me during the entire trip to Scotland.


	2. The Height of the War

**Security checks were at the front gate of the castle.** Our bags were checked by Aurors and teachers, and I noticed that Caspian del Rey joined the rest of us, instead of the first-years. I suppose it makes sense. He was certainly much older than an eleven-year-old.

I tapped my foot as I waited for the Auror who was checking my carpetbag to finish up. The wars were an inconvenience— no longer did they hold the same horrors they held three years ago, when my siblings and I visited Professor Kirke's.

Besides, the wizards had been at war since I was born, in 1928. It was only a matter of time before the muggles caught up.

Once the check was done, I noticed that Professor Dumbledore pulled Caspian del Rey to the side, holding the Sorting Hat in his hand.

Good, I thought. At least there won't be a ton of fuss about him. We can just move on.

I followed the other Ravenclaws into the Great Hall, sparing the occasional glance at Tom. He was talking with Avery and Selwyn now, as cheerful with them as he was sad with me. It was amazing, his empathy and ability to truly understand everyone that he was around.

After talking to him, I was ready to pretend again. I sat directly across from Phyllis Fawley and the other girls.

"I'm truly sorry about this summer, Susan," Phyllis said.

The other girls gave me looks of pity. I straightened my back. "It's alright. With the wars, the muggle one and the one against Grindelwald, it's easy to lose track. Especially when what happened was on the home front."

"Well, if there's anything we can do—"

"Oh, who's that boy?" Olive Hornby asked, leaning away from the table to look at the river of incoming students. I didn't need to turn my head to know exactly who she was talking about.

My heart sank when I saw that he was wearing the blue and bronze-lined robes of a Ravenclaw.

He swaggered up to the table, and looked to an empty bit of bench beside me. "Is this seat taken?"

"No!" Olive cried before I could respond. I glared at her, but she was so busy focusing on del Rey, that she didn't even notice me.

"So where are you from?" Phyllis asked.

"Spain, an island close to it," he said. "Isla de Piratas— it has a history as a hideout for pirates, but lots of sorcerers live there now."

"He used to attend Beauxbatons," I said as I craned my neck to see if the first-years would be sorted any time soon. It appeared Dumbledore was giving them a run-down of the four houses. Would they hurry up?

"You've met him already?" Disappointment crept into Olive's question.

I looked back to del Rey. There was something intense in his coffee-colored eyes, full of emotion and begging something of me. But what? It was like he knew me from somewhere else. . . But where?

I couldn't shake the feeling that I knew him, too. But I couldn't remember.

"On the train, he helped me with my trunk," I said, continuing to look him straight in the eye. "That's all."

I didn't understand his disappointment at all.

I blushed and looked away, and let Olive and Phyllis and Myrtle talk to him, until the teachers shushed us, so we could get on with the Sorting.

* * *

I was relieved when it was time to go up and get ready for the first day of class. Caspian del Rey kept trying to start conversations with me— but I let Myrtle, Phyllis, and Olive take over. I felt his eyes on me, with a disappointment I couldn't even begin to comprehend.

As the new Ravenclaw Prefect, I got up and directed the first-years and other students towards the Ravenclaw Tower. I'd leave it to one of the older students to let them in, or at least explain how the riddle system works.

Caspian stopped in front of me.

"Susan—"

"Follow the others in blue to Ravenclaw Tower, they'll lead the way." I double-checked, there were no more first-years from Ravenclaw in the Great Hall. The Ravenclaws were always the first to clear out, and the Hufflepuffs the last.

"I know that the memories are painful, but I'm here to make things right," he said.

"I don't know what you're talking about." I walked along the benches, making sure there was nothing I needed to put in the lost & found inside the common room.

"Your siblings, they say you forgot, but you couldn't have— it was all real, Susan," he said, following me like an endearing yet annoying puppy.

I whirled around. "That what was all real?"

He froze, perhaps in shock. "Narnia, Susan."

I shook my head. "That was just a game. A game that we all made up to cope with the fact that both our worlds weren't safe anymore."

"It was more than a game—"

"That's what my siblings thought, and it got them killed!" I hadn't realized there were tears in my eyes. I didn't even care that some of the other students were staring at me. "They kept playing, and when they went to that old house in London to continue their games, they ended up dying in that awful train crash!"

He didn't flinch. There was pity in his coffee-dark eyes, but not like with Tom. There was a look as if he knew something that I didn't.

I straightened up, and swiped at my cheeks angrily. "How do you know about it all anyway, Caspian del Rey?"

He tilted his head, hurt entering his expression. "Don't you remember me?"

I shook my head, unable to articulate the complex sensation of deja vu that accompanied him.

I looked to a group of whispering Hufflepuffs, then back to him. "Just stay away from me."

With that, I took off into the castle. He could get lost for all I cared.


	3. Courtly Love

**In the first weeks of my fifth year, I couldn't shake the feeling that Caspian didn't belong here.** He struggled with a wand, and the Latin incantations, as if this were all foreign to him. But he certainly wasn't any sort of muggle. He was confused by the contraptions I sometimes brought with me to class, and while he looked to the magic of the school with wonder, there was a sense of familiarity he seemed to have it— the one thing Tom Riddle didn't have, for all of his mastery of magic.

Tom didn't like him, either. While many students were charmed by Caspian del Rey, after their third Defense class, Tom Riddle developed the grudge that would change the course of history.

Professor Merrythought was an elderly woman, with hair that clung to the last threads of darkness that contrasted with her pale wrinkled face. The wrinkles were slashed by scars, from years of experience as an Auror during the 1920s.

After a duel with one of Grindelwald's followers had taken her leg, causing her to replace it with enchanted silver, Professor Merrythought returned to her old job— the position formerly occupied by Albus Dumbledore.

She paced the room, and drew her wand as we entered the classroom. Two circles appeared on the floor, aligned perfectly on opposite ends of the classroom. Around the circles was a box, dedicating a sort of "splash zone" for spells.

Of course, I knew exactly what I was looking at.

"Because of the war against Grindelwald, the Ministry wants all of you to be able to fight," Merrythought said. "You're all too soft. If any of you stumbled across one of the sorcerers following that maniac, you'd be left to beg for mercy. They'd eat you alive. We can't have that."

Her pale blue eyes scoured the room, as the last students straggled in before the bell. "Now, who will go first?"

Her eyes fell on a Slytherin girl with red hair, who was talking to another Slytherin witch with similar aristocratic features.

"Lucretia Black, you're up first."

The girl gave her bag to the girl next to her. "Hold these for me, will you, Walburga?"

The other girl stuck her nose up in the air as she accepted. "Anything for my dear cousin."

Lucretia stepped into one of the dueling rings, and pulled her wand from the elaborate bun with shimmery green ribbons trailing down her back from it. The wand itself had black ribbon wrapped around the handle.

I couldn't help but feel disgusted at the material waste. Silk was being rationed, yet somehow this girl had gotten her hands on enough to waste it on her wand.

"Susan Pevensie, you too."

I dropped my bag to the floor and cast my robes off. I tied my blazer around my waist as she stepped into the ring. I drew my wand, dropping into a combative stance. It was a muscle memory— but I didn't remember where I'd first learned it.

"Very good, Pevensie," Professor Merrythought said.

I kept my eyes focused on Lucretia.

"Ready girls? Bent knees, Black!"

Lucretia hesitantly did so. I almost felt bad about my thoughts against Lucretia, upon seeing the terrified expression on the witch's face.

"Three, two—"

" _Confringo_!" Lucretia cast before the signal, and the fight began.

I leaned out of the spell's path, and Professor Merrythought tutted.

"Stay in your ring, Pevensie!"

"Right," I muttered as I righted myself. " _Expelliarmus_!"

" _Protego_!" Lucretia twirled her wand with a flourish, and my spell rebounded off the shield, only to die once it cross the rectangular line on the floor. " _Depulso_!"

" _Protego_." With a jab, like it was a sword, I put up my shield just in time, and it was strong enough to make the Slytherin witch's curse fizzle out entirely. " _Incendio_!"

The bolt of fire was as deadly and as precise as an arrow. It spiraled straight into Lucretia, and she didn't even have time to put up a shield. She raised her arms to protect her face as the spell hit.

" _Augmenti_." I put out the fire as soon as it hit. There was only a tiny singe mark on Lucretia's robes as evidence of any duel at all.

"Very good, Pevensie." Professor Merrythought nodded. "Five points to Ravenclaw. Black, what went wrong there."

"I couldn't help myself," Lucretia protested. Her eyes looked haunted. "I remember the fire. . . The bombs. . ."

"Try not to hesitate again," Professor Merrythought ordered.

Lucretia slumped her shoulders. "Of course, Professor Merrythought."

"Right, next set of duelists!"

We left the ring, and I stopped Lucretia.

"Hey, don't feel too bad about what happened," I said. "You gave me a good go."

"Get away from her, Pevensie, you've already done enough damage," Walburga said as she grabbed Lucretia's shoulder.

I was left stammering after her, before retreating to join Phyllis and Olive.

"That was scary," Phyllis whispered as Professor Merrythought scanned the room. "It's like you were acting like it was a real fight."

"Isn't that what Professor Merrythought wants?" I untied my blazer as Tom Riddle joined one end, to the cheers and applause of nearly everyone, and shrugged it back on.

"Those aren't the right words," Phyllis said thoughtfully. "It's like you've been in a fight before, that's what I meant."

I nearly dropped my robes back on the floor, I was so startled. "No, no, I haven't ever been in one."

Yet, as I said it, the words felt wrong somehow, and I remembered my nightmares. Something to do with a witch in an icy wood, or some nights it was a forest full of men in armor like those of conquistadors, or of a castle at midnight, monsters all around.

"Caspian del Rey, I haven't had you before," Professor Merrythought said. "You have exactly one chance to impress me."

He nodded eagerly, and joined the ring. Well, after he stopped in front of me, and handed me his robes.

"I won't be needing these, perhaps you can hold onto them for me."

I avoided his coffee-eyed stare, and said nothing. Yet. . . I held onto them. I got the impression, with all the ceremony around giving me the robes, that he thought he was fighting for me. Like he was a knight, for the courtly love of a princess.

Not a princess.

A queen.

The idea felt familiar— felt right. I couldn't tell you why.

But that duel, the one that ensued. . . That was the first time any of us realized that Caspian del Rey was dangerous.

It started innocently enough— Tom threw a Disarming Charm out. But then Caspian retaliated, with non-verbal magic. And all of it looked wicked. He was getting into it, too, slowly wearing down Tom's defenses as the crackling of the spells got louder, and their colors grew closer to the light green that was forbidden.

He was waving his wand around like it was a sword, and with accuracy only comparable to mine.

"Merlin, he's going to kill him!" Myrtle wailed.

Caspian froze, and an emerald green spell came from over his shoulder. He barely dodged it, and Disarmed Tom in time, finishing it off with a silent Knockback Jinx.

Tom's spell was silent, so no one knew for sure. . . But I'm still certain that Tom Riddle tried to use the Killing Curse on the new student.

Not that anyone noticed. In fact, there was whispering, about how advanced Caspian del Rey was, and how frightening of an opponent he seemed to be.

And there was something off about Tom, after that. As Professor Merrythought scolded him it almost seemed as if he were barely holding it together. He was cold, I could see it in his eyes, even if he was charming to everyone's face. It frightened me.

I'd seen that face before. I didn't remember when— but Tom had been similar to me. He must've, for me to know.

And I realized, as Caspian stepped away from the ring, that I didn't remember why Tom and I had broken things off.

Before I could explore that train of thought, for better or for worse, Caspian approached me.

"Thank you, my lady." He gently plucked the robes from my grasp, and slipped them back on.

I didn't know what to say. So I said nothing at all.


End file.
